✅ My Sister's Problem

41. No Secrets

Here's a bonus chapter to say thank you to RossJenkins4 for backing me on Patreon. Thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy it :)

I had a lot of questions that I needed to think about when I woke up, but most of the answers weren't hard to find.

Sensations bombarded my brain in no particular order, demanding attention as each part of my body woke up, and I tried to focus enough to make sense of where I was and what I needed to do. I was slumped in the armchair in the lounge, with an awful crick in my neck. The list I'd been trying to write down was on the floor below my head. There was no sign of my sister, but half of her baby art stuff was still on the floor. Mum was rushing out of the room, in a hurry to get something from the kitchen. My hand was chilly as a draught dried off the last drops of water. It had been wet, but I wasn't sure why yet. And, yes, my legs were wet too. Realisation dawned as I looked down at the huge dark patch between my thighs, the carpet visibly soaked in front of me. There was a vague memory of being in that dream again, the one where my sister knelt beside me and raised a bowl of water until it met my fingers where my hand was dangling limply over the arm of the chair. I'd conditioned myself, and now I had wet myself. Not when wearing SleepSafe pants that I'd told Mum were only out of sympathy. Not where I had a chance to throw out a diaper and pretend it had never happened. I'd fallen asleep in the front room, and peed on the thick lilac carpet.

I sniffed my fingers, but I was already pretty sure what had happened. No smell there; it wasn't like I'd put my hand on my soaked clothes for a moment before waking. I'd been exhausted, half asleep. Not sure what was real or a dream, and my sister had put my hand in water. She'd used my conditioning against me, without even realising it was a thing. If she kept this up she'd likely try the same trick on one of her friends at a sleepover one day, and be amazed that it didn't work.

The big question now was how to clean up. I needed to do something, I needed to get the carpet dry. I needed to make sure that none of the art stuff was affected, although I noticed now that it was carefully arranged just out of reach of the puddle on all sides. Lindy must have done that before she left the room, but that left the question of where she was now. Why wasn't she gloating at Mum about what a baby I was, pointing and laughing like a maniac?

No, the big question was what Mum was going to do. She was mad, I knew that already. What could I tell her? She wouldn't believe that I'd just wet myself. And if I told her about Lindy's trick with the bowl of water, she would want to know why I hadn't told her already. This would still be my fault. Even worse, she might think I wanted it. I'd already let her know I was interested in being a little kid occasionally; how could I possibly prove that I hadn't gone along with this willingly, and allowed my sister to do this to me. I was going to be in so much trouble no matter what happened. And if I told her about Lindy's involvements, my sister would be back on the defensive. Withdrawn and sullen, humiliated. She'd be more withdrawn, from us and from her friends. Punishing her for something so severe would make it harder for her to confide in Mum, and she wouldn't trust me with other problems after I snitched. And it wouldn't stop me feeling guilty, because I knew that it was me who'd pushed her this far.

"I'm sorry," I gasped as Mum came back into the room. I was already panicking, looking at the mess all around me. There was no way I could hide it. "I'm sorry, I just don't know what happened. This... never..." She could probably hear from my voice that I was on the edge of tears. Maybe not for the reasons she thought, not quite.

"Shush, baby. Let Mummy get this cleaned up first, yes? Are you feeling okay?" She had that bowl in her hands again, the orange one. But this time wisps of steam rose from the surface. There was a coarse-bristled wooden brush floating on the top, and a rough sponge bobbing between little icebergs of suds. She wasn't punishing me now; just focusing on getting cleaned up. And she was talking to me like I was a little kid again. I probably deserved that.